


love, it's only magic

by wnnbh12



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-09-07 22:00:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8817754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wnnbh12/pseuds/wnnbh12
Summary: A collection of random Preath one shots.





	1. "Strawberry isn't my favorite."

**Author's Note:**

> i've got like 20 of these stocked up and ideas for more. i don't have a set schedule for updating, just every few days i guess and when i get the time
> 
> they're mostly based off a list of prompts of 4-6 words i found, but i added some of my own
> 
> i might end up changing the title when i think of something i like better, i just needed to make it something for now so i could start posting

Christen thought it would be an easy night when she asked Tobin what she wanted to do for her birthday dinner. Tobin told her she just wanted to stay in and have Christen cook her favorite meal followed by a pint of her favorite ice cream while they watch Harry Potter for the fiftieth time.

 

Christen didn’t know she’d get some of the details wrong, though.

 

The dinner part of the night is easy enough.

 

Tobin’s favorite meal is her mom’s tortilla soup and chicken quesadillas, a comfort food that Tobin always asks for whenever she’s home. Tobin’s mom gave Christen the recipe a year into their relationship because she knew how useful it would be (and also because she got tired of having to make it so much, so she figured she’d leave that job up to Christen now.)

 

Dinner goes well and Tobin eats her fill, telling Christen she likes her soup better than her mom’s, but Christen knows it’s a white lie for her benefit. The two taste exactly the same, but the atmosphere of eating it at home with her family on a cold Jersey night will always mean her mom’s is slightly better.

 

The movie part is easy as well, Tobin bought duplicates of every one to keep at Christen’s, so all she has to do is find it in the mess of movies on her unorganized shelf and stick it in the DVD player.

 

The ice cream part is what Christen gets wrong and she can’t believe it.

 

It should’ve been the easiest part, all she had to do was buy Tobin’s favorite brand from the store.

 

Apparently it isn’t that easy, though.

 

Tobin’s settled on the couch with the title menu for The Order of the Phoenix queued up on the TV when Christen walks in with the container of strawberry ice cream and two spoons.

 

The curious look she gets from Tobin when she notices the ice cream throws her for a loop. “What’s wrong?” Christen asks her cautiously.

 

“Strawberry isn’t my favorite.”

 

Tobin doesn’t say it in a snotty way, like she can’t believe Christen would mess up the one thing she actually wanted for her birthday. In fact, she says it casually as she reaches for the carton and digs her spoon in, like she’s confused why Christen would think this is her favorite, but it’s ice cream after all, so she isn’t going to complain.

 

“What are you talking about? Yes it is,” Christen insists, completely at a loss for how she could’ve gotten this wrong.

 

She’s known Tobin’s favorite flavor of ice cream since their third date when she ordered a cone for them to share as they walked the boardwalk. It’s the same ice cream she’s ordered every time since. Christen’s always loved that they had the same favorite ice cream, so she doesn’t understand why Tobin’s suddenly saying it isn’t.

 

“It is not,” Tobin tells her again, with a laugh this time.

 

Still, Tobin doesn’t seem bothered. She seems perfectly content to eat the ice cream anyway and presses play on the movie, an excited glint in her eye like she can’t already quote the entire thing.

 

Christen isn’t going to let it go so easily, though.

 

She reaches over for the remote and pauses the movie again, ignoring the complaining ‘hey’ she gets from Tobin.

 

“What do you mean strawberry ice cream isn’t your favorite?”

 

“It’s really not a big deal, sweetheart,” Tobin mumbles around another spoonful.

 

“It is, though,” Christen insists, determined not to let this go until she figures out what’s going on. “Tobin, you order strawberry ice cream every single time we get it. Every time I come to your apartment, there’s a carton of it in the freezer. I don’t get why you’re saying it isn’t your favorite when it is.”

 

“I do that because it’s _your_ favorite,” Tobin says like it makes all the sense in the world, but it just confuses Christen even more.

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Tobin sighs and digs her spoon into the carton, letting it stand up on its own as she turns to Christen to explain herself.

 

“I order strawberry ice cream when we go out because it’s _your_ favorite and it makes you happy. I always have a carton in my freezer because I buy it for _you_ when you’re there. You always like to have a few bites when you’re anxious or craving, so I want it to be there when you want it. It’s not my favorite, though. I like it, but it isn’t my number one choice. Can we watch the movie now?”

 

Christen’s eyes dance across Tobin’s face for a few moments, trying to pick up on any hint that Tobin might be joking with her about this, but she finds none.

 

Tobin’s completely serious and Christen doesn’t know what to do with this information.

 

She’s flattered that Tobin would sacrifice getting her favorite ice cream for two years just to make Christen happy, but at the same time she’s _annoyed_ Tobin would deny getting what she wants just for her.

 

“Why couldn’t you have just gotten both?” Christen asks, refusing to let this go.

 

Tobin shrugs like it isn’t a big deal, and it really isn’t, but it feels like it is to Christen.

 

“I don’t know, I guess I just thought it was dumb to get two things of ice cream when we can just share. Besides, I don’t really eat ice cream all that often, so if I kept two things of it, they’d both get freezer burnt and go to waste. I like strawberry enough to eat it when I’m craving too.”

 

“I can’t believe you lied to me for two years about this,” Christen complains.

 

Tobin laughs and leans in to kiss Christen’s cheek, her lips cold from her newly discovered _not_ favorite ice cream.

 

“Chris, I never actually told you that strawberry was my favorite, you just always assumed. Can you think of a time when I did? Because I can pretty much guarantee the words ‘strawberry ice cream is my favorite’ have never left my mouth until just this moment.”

 

Christen thinks about it, thinks about every time they’ve ever had ice cream together in the past two years, but she knows it’s useless. Tobin’s right. She never actually claimed strawberry was her favorite.

 

“So wait, if strawberry isn’t your favorite, then what is?”

 

“Mint chocolate chip.” Christen wrinkles her nose at that and she’s so damn cute, Tobin can’t help but kiss the wrinkle away. “See, that’s exactly why I never get it when we’re together because I know how much you hate it.”

 

“I can’t believe you’ve denied yourself your favorite ice cream for two years just because of me.”

 

Tobin reaches out for her spoon again, but she doesn’t eat it right away.

 

“You know, I think I know a way strawberry could become my favorite. Then we’ll never have to worry about it again.”

 

Christen’s about to ask what Tobin is talking about when she feels the spoonful of ice cream drop into the hollow of her collarbone. She doesn’t even have a moment to complain about how cold it is before Tobin’s mouth is closing over the spot, her warm tongue licking away any trace of strawberry.

Tobin pulls away with a cheeky grin and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

 

“Yeah, I think strawberry might be my favorite now. I need to test this theory a little more, though.”

 

She tilts Christen’s head to the side so that the next spoonful can land right where Christen’s neck meets her shoulder. An ice cold trail makes its way down Christen’s chest as it melts against her skin, but Tobin’s tongue is quick to catch it before it reaches her tank top, lips sucking on Christen’s neck long after all traces of ice cream are gone.

 

“Oh yeah,” Tobin says eagerly. “Strawberry is _definitely_ my new favorite.”

 

Christen rolls her eyes, but she’s too worked up from Tobin’s tongue to care about how silly she’s being.

 

The movie goes unwatched, but the entire pint of ice cream is eaten, and none of it with spoons.

 

Christen figures out that the ridges of Tobin’s abdominal muscles make a much better bowl than anything in her kitchen cabinets. She also figures out that the sensation of cold ice cream high on her inner thighs, followed by Tobin’s warm lips, is enough to push her towards the edge before she’s even been touched.

 

“Best birthday ever,” Tobin mumbles sleepily after the whole carton has been emptied.

 

When she leans up to kiss Christen, her lips still taste like their favorite ice cream.


	2. "What if I break him?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in honor of Tobin winning player of the year, i thought i'd post a new one shot
> 
> i was going to post the first of a multi-chapter thing i've been working on, but i don't know how i feel about it yet
> 
> this got really sappy, but i couldn't help it, the idea of them with kids just kills me

He's so small. 

 

He's 7 pounds and 5 ounces, which the nurses tell them is right at the average weight, but to Tobin he's so small. 

 

He's swaddled in a light green blanket with a little hat on his head in the same color. His eyes are closed now that his cries have stopped. Now, he just dozes peacefully, wrapped carefully in Christen’s arms.

 

He's so small. 

 

He looks so fragile, like the slightest touch could break him. He makes her think of her grandmother’s china cabinet, filled with precious, breakable plates and bowls that Tobin was always so terrified of knocking into after countless stern warnings from her grandmother. Tobin always kept her distance from the cabinet, but she just wants to get closer to him. 

 

Not too close, though. 

 

Christen still has tears in her eyes as she looks down at the little boy, staring at him in wonder like she can't believe he's real. With one strong arm wrapped around him, she uses her other hand to trace a finger softly across all his visible features--his long nose, his chubby cheeks, his brow, furrowed with sleep, his tiny fingers that are smaller than Tobin ever could've imagined.

 

He's so small. 

 

Tobin still can't wrap her head around the fact that this tiny person is the same little heartbeat she heard on the ultrasound so many months ago. She can't believe that this full-sized baby is the same gray blur on the monitor that she watched grow from the size of a blueberry to a strawberry to an apple to a papaya. She can't fathom that the same tiny fingers now wrapping around Christen’s thumb are the same ones the technician traced out for them on a screen just a few weeks ago. 

 

Up until now, it's like he's just been a concept, an idea that Tobin and Christen tried months for, countless IVF shots and doctors appointments. He's just been a dream that they lied awake at night thinking about together. 

 

But now he's here. He's right in front of her and she can't believe that he's real. She's been measuring Christen’s growing stomach for the past 39 weeks, but it still didn't feel real. Seeing Christen hold him in her arms, though, hearing the tiny noises he makes as he squirms in his sleep, now he's real. 

 

He's so small. 

 

Christen manages to pull her eyes away from the baby for a moment and looks up towards Tobin. “Do you want to hold him?” She asks, but Tobin barely hears it. She can't stop staring at the baby, with her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. 

 

This is her son. 

 

This is Christen’s son. 

 

This is her egg, and the sperm from a donor who played basketball and graduated from Stanford (much to Christen’s delight), grown and nurtured in Christen’s body. 

 

This is her baby. 

 

He's so small. 

 

Christen asks her question again and this time, Tobin snaps out of her trance. She looks at Christen, eyes still wide with fear, and says, “I don't know if I should.”

 

Her wife smiles up at her from the bed, understanding the worry in Tobin’s eyes. She pats the spot next to her on the bed until Tobin finally sits down beside her, careful to stay straight up so she doesn't jostle Christen and the baby. 

 

“Of course you should,” Christen says. “He's your son and he wants to meet you.”

 

_“He's your son.”_

 

Those words stick in Tobin’s brain, repeat themselves on a loop until they become jumbled. 

 

She can't believe she has a son. 

 

He looks just like her, long fingers and toes, tanned skin, full pink lips, long nose, a head full of wavy, light brown hair under his hat. He looks exactly like all the baby pictures she's ever seen of herself. He reminds her of her nephew, Cole, when he was born, but there's an element of something there that Cole didn't have. 

 

An element of her. 

 

He's so small. 

 

Tobin becomes a little more comfortable, leans into Christen’s side ever so slightly, and rests a hand on her bicep, safely inches away from the baby. 

 

“I should go get our parents, they'll want to meet him,” Tobin says, knowing that bringing their families in will give her more time to come to terms with this all. 

 

“You can get them in a few minutes. I want a little more time with just the three of us,” Christen tells her, shutting that plan down. “You don't want to hold him?” Her tone isn't accusatory, she's just trying to get Tobin to talk, work out what's bothering her. 

 

“I do,” Tobin says quickly not wanting Christen to think badly of her, think that she doesn't love their son. She’s doing this _because_ she loves him so much. “I just don't know if I should.”

 

“How come?”

 

“He's so small.”

 

Christen smiles up at her wife and tilts her head so that it's resting against Tobin’s chest. “Of course he's small, he's supposed to be. He's a baby. If he were any bigger, I'd probably be resenting him right now for all the pain he's caused,” she teases, trying to get Tobin to laugh and loosen up. 

 

It almost works, there's a tentative smile on Tobin’s face, but then the worried crease in her brow comes back, the same worried crease the baby has right now as he sleeps. God, does he look like her. Her mom’s going to start sobbing when she sees how much they look alike. 

 

“I'm right here next to you,” Christen assures her. “You can do it.”

 

“What if I break him?” Tobin asks, finally voicing what's been bothering her so much. 

 

Christen smiles softly and reaches her head up to kiss Tobin’s jaw, keeping her lips puckered until Tobin gets the hint and kisses her lips. The kiss grounds Tobin, clears her head and brings her back into the moment. 

 

“You're not going to break him. Babies are tough, and besides, you're laying on the bed right here next to me. He'll be okay, I promise.”

 

“He's so small,” Tobin says again. 

 

“Tobin, look at me,” Christen whispers, waiting until Tobin reluctantly takes her eyes off the baby and looks right at her. “You can do this, okay? You're his mom and he loves you. He wants to meet you. I promise you aren't going to drop him. Nothing bad is going to happen to him, I know you would never let that happen. I trust you, okay?”

 

Something about those last four words gets through to Tobin. Trust has always been such a big thing for them, a staple in their relationship, trusting each other and trusting themselves. Especially trusting each other when they don't know if they _can_ trust themselves. 

 

That's what Christen’s doing. Tobin is worried, not sure if she can do this, but Christen is showing her that she trusts she can even if Tobin doesn’t. 

 

It's exactly what Tobin needs to hear in order to swallow her fears and nod her head slowly, then more quickly. “Okay,” Tobin whispers. “Okay, yeah. I'll hold him,” she adds, voice stronger and more confident this time. 

 

Christen’s grin is as bright as she sits up taller and gently hands the baby over. 

 

He's so small. 

 

That's the only thing Tobin can keep thinking as she holds him in her arms. He seemed small before, but seeing him cradled against her chest, he seems to have only gotten smaller. He squirms from the adjustment and slowly wakes, staring up at Tobin with wide, dark blue eyes.

 

“He's beautiful,” Tobin says in awe. “I can't believe he's ours.”

 

She leans down and kisses his forehead, breathing in his soft newborn smell. She pulls away and gazes down at him, studying every single feature and recognizing every one in herself. She brings a hand to cradle his head, pushes the hat off so she can run her fingers through his soft, downy hair. 

 

Tears are pricking behind her eyes when she finally pulls them away and looks to her wife. “He's all ours,” she says, trying to convince herself of the words. “You did so good, honey.” She leans in and kisses Christen’s forehead soundly before she leans down again and does the same to their son. 

 

“ _We_ did good,” Christen corrects. “Did you decide on the name yet?”

 

They'd had a tough time deciding what to name him, bouncing back and forth every other hour and running highlighters dry on the pages of half a dozen baby name books. Every time they thought they settled on something, they'd change their minds. 

 

Finally, they decided that Christen would come up with a shortlist of five first names that she liked and Tobin would pick from those. Tobin would come up with five middle names and Christen would choose her favorite. Tobin’s only request was that he have a biblical name and Christen agreed. 

 

Tobin read the list Christen gave her on a purple post-it note so much the ink was starting to blur and the edges were fraying. She kept the paper folded in her pocket at all times so she could take it out and read them over whenever she thought about it. She'd been able to narrow it down to three, but she just couldn't decide from there. 

 

Now though, looking down at the baby in her arms, she knows exactly what she wants to name him.

 

“Elijah,” Tobin says softly. “His name is Elijah.” She spells out the words across his blanket covered stomach with her index finger and she can't help but think the content sigh he lets out is a sign that he likes the name as well. 

 

“Elijah Jude,” Christen smiles, adding the name she chose. “Elijah Jude Heath Press.”

 

“It's perfect. He's perfect.”

 

Christen nods in agreement and brings a hand to rest on top of Tobin’s, right across Elijah’s stomach. “We did good,” she says again. 

 

“We really did,” Tobin adds. 

 

Several minutes later when Tobin finally goes to get their families and they get to see their grandson, their nephew, their godson, for the first time, everyone only has one thing to say.

 

“He's so small.”


	3. "Let's go get food."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is one of the only ones i didn't write during class. instead i wrote this when i was super drunk on a random tuesday afternoon because i didn't feel like doing calculus homework. when i finally read back over it once sober, i'm pretty sure it was written in a different language there were so many spelling/grammar mistakes. i think i managed to clean it all up though

It’s Tobin’s stomach growling for a full eleven seconds that finally makes Christen pull her lips away from Tobin’s neck. Tobin’s been trying to get Christen to stop for over an hour so they can go eat, but they’re together again for the first time in almost six weeks and Christen has other plans to keep her mouth busy.

 

She always gets this way after extended time apart. They barely ever make it through the front door of either of their apartments before Christen has Tobin pressed against a wall and starts tugging at her clothes.

 

Tobin loves it. She loves how much more dominant Christen gets when they’re reunited and she’s always happy to lay back and comply with whatever Christen wants.

 

But eventually Tobin can’t keep up.

 

She needs food. She needs sleep. She needs to give her overly sensitive body time to recover so that every touch doesn’t set her off.

 

Christen’s stamina is off the charts, though, so it usually takes Tobin asking to press pause at least five times before it actually happens.

 

Tobin’s started making sure she eats before they get together and the nightstand at her apartment is always filled with snacks so that she won’t actually have to leave the bed to eat. She’s not at her apartment, though, and she’s cursing her fast metabolism for making her so hungry again even though she made Christen stop to get her food on the way back from the airport so that she could have sustenance.

 

“Chris, my stomach is literally about to start eating itself. I need food.” She presses a finger to Christen’s lips, stopping what she knows is inevitably coming next. “And don’t make some crude joke about you being all I need to eat because we’ve been doing this for the past four hours, so clearly it’s not working.”

 

“I don’t have to make the joke if you make it for me.” Christen takes Tobin’s finger between her lips, swiping her tongue across it and biting gently before she lets it go.

 

There’s another long stomach rumble, but this time it’s from Christen and not Tobin.

 

“Fine,” Christen sighs, leaning up to kiss the tip of Tobin’s nose. “Let’s go get food.”

 

They end up sprawled across the kitchen floor, Tobin with three boxes of different cereals open next to her and a gallon of milk on the other side so she can fill up her bowl again each time she empties it. Christen’s eating leftover veggie pizza from dinner with Julie last night and she refuses to share any with Tobin because it’s her favorite in the whole city.

 

Tobin’s starting on her third bowl of cereal when Christen finishes her pizza and leans back against the cabinets with a content sigh.

 

“I missed you so much,” she tells Tobin, moving her legs so she can run her toes along Tobin’s toned calf.

 

“Really?” Tobin asks around a spoonful of Lucky Charms. “I had no idea. The multiple orgasms and denying me food for hours didn’t give you away at all.”

 

“Don’t even act like you didn’t enjoy every second of it.”

 

Tobin shrugs in defeat, knowing she can’t deny it. She takes two more bites of cereal before she speaks again. “Can we do that one thing again?”

 

Christen’s eyebrows knit together curiously. “What ‘one thing?’ We did lots of things, you’ll need to be more specific.”

 

Tobin’s cheeks start to turn the slightest shade of pink, as they always do when their conversations turn even mildly dirty. During sex, her mouth is downright filthy, but before and after, she’s always shy talking so explicitly. Christen’s always found it absolutely adorable.

 

It takes a few moments of coaxing, including Christen moving cereal boxes out of the way so she can sit next to Tobin and nibble on her ear lobe to get her to open up, but Tobin finally tells her.

 

“That one thing where my leg is over your shoulder and you’re using both hands,” she mumbles into Christen’s neck.

 

“Oh, that's a good thing,” Christen rasps out, sliding an open palm across Tobin's abdomen underneath her shirt. “We can definitely do that again.” She lets her hand move higher, brushing across Tobin’s bare breast as she sighs into the shell of her ear. She pinches at her nipple, making Tobin whine before she pulls her hand away completely. “When you're finished eating of course.”

 

Tobin stands so quickly it knocks Christen back a little. She pours her half full bowl of cereal down the drain and then rushes to put away the milk and cereal boxes. When that's finished, she turns to Christen with an accomplished smirk and tugs her shirt over her head, leaving her in only a pair of Christen’s Red Stars training shorts that she grabbed from a drawer before going to the kitchen. 

 

“All done eating.”

 

She's not able to stop Christen before she makes a dirty joke this time. 

 

“Oh, you're nowhere near done eating.”

 

Tobin gets her back for it, pulling her up from the floor and throwing her over her shoulder, ignoring the giggled protests to put her back down. She walks them to the living room because the open bedroom door ten feet away is suddenly too far. She presses Christen’s back into the couch with her own weight and kisses the remaining laughter out of her mouth. 

 

They do the thing Tobin wanted to do again. 

 

Twice.


	4. "You can't be here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas eve!
> 
> or
> 
> happy first night of hanukkah!
> 
> or
> 
> happy saturday evening!

“You know Christen is going to be so mad at me if this goes badly, right?”

 

“How could it possibly go badly?”

 

“You guys aren’t supposed to see each other before the wedding and I’m literally helping you walk into her dressing room while she's in her dress. That's like, really bad luck or something.”

 

“That's why you're going to let me use your tie as a blindfold and I'm not in my dress yet, so neither of us will be seeing anything we shouldn't.”

 

“This is so bad.”

 

Nima’s been complaining for the last ten minutes, ever since Tobin asked him to get Christen’s mom and sisters out of the room for a couple minutes so they could have a quiet moment alone before the wedding. She knows they're not supposed to see each other, she knows it's bad luck (Nima’s there to remind her if she forgets) but she just needs to see Christen. 

 

Her girlfriend.

 

Her fiancée. 

 

Her _wife_ in less than two hours. 

 

Wife. 

 

That word still gives Tobin butterflies, which is exactly why Tobin needs to see her, just for a moment by themselves, before the ceremony. 

 

If Tobin had it her way, they would have eloped the day after Tobin proposed. One of their friends could have gotten ordained, Kelley probably since she and Emily were with them in Napa that weekend. Emily could've been the witness. That's all Tobin really needs. She just wants Christen to be her wife. She doesn't care how it happens.

 

Christen insisted on the wedding being in a church, though, knowing that even though Tobin swore she'd be okay with it not being in a church, years later when she looked back, she would wish that it were. 

 

So Tobin relented, knowing she was right and knowing how happy it would make her mom. 

 

Tobin had coasted through the motions of planning the wedding, offering her opinions when needed and staying out of the way when it wasn't. The only thing she really insisted on is that Lauren, Amy and Casey be in charge of planning her bachelorette party, knowing that if Alex and Allie, or even Nikki, we're on charge, she'd end up more drunk than she's ever been and regret the entire thing. 

 

Tobin hasn't been specific about anything but that, letting Christen do what she wants and helping her when she can't make up her mind. 

 

This, though, this she insists on. 

 

This she has to have. 

 

Nima groans one last time and then leads her through the back hallway of the church, to the opposite side where Christen is getting ready. Tobin’s heart beats faster with each step she takes. She wipes the sweat off her palms onto the robe she's in, knowing how annoyed Christen will be that she isn't in her dress yet, but needing this one moment before she hits play on the wedding process again. 

 

When they get outside Christen’s door, Nima turns to her with a look that Tobin reads right away, so she answers his question before he can even ask it. 

 

“Yes, Nima, I'm sure I want to do this.”

 

“I know you are,” he says sullenly, still stressing about being involved in this. “Turn around.”

 

She does as he says and he reaches out to tie the blindfold around her eyes as loosely as he can, careful not to mess up her hair. Once he's done, he knocks on the door and waits until Christen tells him to come in, then takes Tobin’s hand and puts it on the doorknob so she knows where to go before he heads back down the hall. 

 

Tobin takes a deep breath and opens the door slowly. 

 

“Don't freak out, but it's me,” Tobin says cautiously. 

 

“Tobin, you can't be here!” Christen exclaims. Tobin hears shuffling around the room as she says, “you're not supposed to see me before the ceremony.”

 

“I can't see anything, it's okay,” Tobin explains as she steps in the room, closing the door behind her. 

 

The shuffling stops and there's a quiet moment before Christen asks, “is that Nima’s tie?” She huffs loudly and then adds, “why aren't you in your dress? You have to be ready to go in twenty minutes for pictures with your family.”

 

“I know, I know. I just needed to see you.”

 

“You couldn't have waited to see me in like, an hour?”

 

Tobin can hear the amusement in her voice and it makes her grin. “No, babe, this couldn’t wait. I needed to see you now.”

 

“You aren't _seeing_ me at all,” Christen points out.

 

“Hush, you know what I mean.”

 

She reaches her hand out blindly, trying to follow the sound of Christen’s voice. It only takes a moment before Christen’s hand finds her, leading her towards her. Tobin brings her other hand out to Christen’s side, traces her fingertips down her dress--she thinks it's lace, soft and elegant. She knows Christen looks beautiful in it without even seeing her. 

 

“What's going on, sweetheart?” Christen asks her softly. 

 

Tobin brings Christen’s hand to her mouth and kisses the back of her hand, tasting the almond butter lotion on her skin, then she kisses Christen’s vintage engagement ring, a white opal surrounded by sapphires that Christen had cried the first time she saw. 

 

“Will you pray with me?” Tobin finally asks her. “I know it's not really your thing, but--”

 

Christen cuts her off with a kiss, quick and gentle so neither of their lipstick gets messed up. 

 

“Of course I will.” She takes Tobin’s hand off her ribs and holds that one just as carefully as she's holding the other. “Do you want me to say something or…?”

 

“You can say it to yourself. It's just something I really wanted to do with you. I was sitting down to do it by myself, when I realized it didn't feel good enough. I needed you to do this with me.”

 

She can't explain it, she just knows that when she closed her eyes and bowed her head back in her room, she couldn't feel God with her the way she wanted. She's in a _church_. That should be more than sufficient for a quick prayer before the biggest day of her life. 

 

But it wasn't and she knew exactly why. 

 

Tobin’s never felt closer to God than when she's with Christen. Christen has always loved her blind faith in her religion, her absolute devotion to something that she herself doesn't even understand sometimes. Christen always makes her belief in God easier. When she questions it, when she doubts it, Christen is always there to remind her of her beliefs, even if she doesn't really believe the same thing.

 

She looks at Christen and knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that He’s the reason for them being together. He brought Christen into her life when she needed someone the most. He created this perfect, beautiful woman so that she could bless the world He created, and then He decided to bless Tobin as well by sharing His most wonderful work with her.

 

Christen makes her faith so much stronger, which is why she wants to be with her for this. 

 

Christen kisses her softly again, longer this time, and then she rests her forehead against Tobin’s and they pray, hands clasped tightly, breathing in sync.

 

Tobin thanks God for Christen, as she has every other day of her life since they first got together. She thanks Him for the air in her lungs. She thanks Him for her family. She thanks Him for blessing her with her ability to play soccer as well as she does. She thanks Him for her friends, and all her other loved ones and she thanks Him for allowing them all to be here on the most important day of her life.

 

She asks Him to help this day go smoothly, for Allie to not get so drunk she spouts off every embarrassing story she has about Tobin at the reception, especially not in front of her mother. She asks Him to bless her union with Christen. She asks Him to bring their families together in perfect, beautiful harmony.

 

Lastly, she thanks Him for always loving her unconditionally, for being there for her when no one else is, for helping her make sense of her life even when everything’s blurred.

 

She whispers, “amen,” when she’s finished, but doesn’t pull away yet, waiting for Christen to signal she’s finished as well.

 

It takes a few more quiet moments, Tobin listens to Christen’s breathing as she finishes her prayers, listens to the soft way she’s mumbling her words to herself, unintelligible to everyone but her. After a few seconds, she says, “amen,” with a sigh and then leans away from Tobin, but she doesn’t drop her hands.

 

“I really wish I could see you right now,” Tobin laments, wanting nothing more than to take the tie off from around her eyes.

 

“Blindfolds have always worked well for us in the past, who’s to say this one isn’t too?” Christen asks suggestively.

 

“Chris, we’re in a _church_ ,” Tobin whispers, feeling the heat that rises to her face as she thinks back on such dirty thoughts that are certainly not appropriate for where they’re currently standing.

 

“Sorry,” Christen laughs in a way that says she’s more amused with Tobin’s reaction than she is sorry. “You’ve really got to get out of here now, I need to finish getting ready and you don’t even have your dress on.”

 

“I was thinking I might just wear this robe. It’s white and super comfy, it’ll be okay, right?”

 

“As much as I’m sure Allie would love to claim she’s your wedding dress designer since she’s the one who bought you this robe, I was promised seeing you in your dress would knock me out and I’m really looking forward to it.”

 

Tobin smiles and relents. “Okay, fine. I’ll put on my real dress just for you.”

 

“Thank you for agreeing to wear your _wedding dress_ on our _wedding day_ ,” Christen teases. “Seriously, go get ready now, though. The sooner you’re in your dress, the sooner we get married and the sooner I get to get you _out_ of your dress.” After a complaint from Tobin she adds, “I know, I know. We’re in a church. If you want me to stop making inappropriate comments in God’s house, then you’ll do as I tell you.”

 

“Fine,” Tobin grumbles. “Kiss me one more time first.”

 

Christen laughs and if Tobin knows anything about the woman, she’s shaking her head right now, but she does as Tobin requested. She kisses her slowly, with a little less regard for their makeup than she had the first two times they kissed. Tobin knows Perri is going to be angry at her for smudging her lipstick, but Tobin doesn’t care right now. This is her last kiss with Christen as just her girlfriend, her fiancée, and she sure isn’t going to only go halfway.

 

When Tobin runs her tongue along Christen’s bottom lip, though, the younger woman puts a stop to it.

 

“Tobin, we’re in a _church_ ,” she scolds teasingly, bringing up a thumb to, probably, wipe her own lipstick off of Tobin’s upper lip. “Now get out of here, there’s plenty more of this in store for you, but only after we’re married.”

 

“I can’t wait to marry you,” Tobin sighs.

 

“Prove it,” Christen challenges. “Go get ready.”

 

“Fine, but only because you know how competitive I am and that was _definitely_ a challenge.”

 

Tobin leans in to kiss Christen’s forehead, going slowly since she can’t see anything and doesn’t want to bash her nose against Christen’s face moments before their wedding. She kisses her softly and thanks her for praying with her, for giving her such a special moment on such an important day.

 

“Don’t thank me,” Christen says quietly. “You know I love when you ask me to pray with you, when you want me to be a part of something so important to you.”

 

They’ve prayed together before, but only a handful of times excluding all the family dinners spent in Jersey.

 

They prayed before Tobin got her appendix taken out, because Christen was so nervous over it and Tobin thought it might calm her. They prayed when Christen’s grandma got sick and Christen was an absolute mess of worry. They prayed before Christen went to Botswana for six weeks for Grassroots Soccer and was anxious about being apart for so long.

 

Really, all the times they’ve prayed before have been for Christen’s benefit, but this, this is for Tobin and she loves Christen so much for doing this with her. She’s so thankful for her and she wants to make sure Christen realizes this.

 

“I know, but thank you. Seriously, Christen, I love you so much for this,” she tells her.

 

“You’re welcome,” Christen says quietly. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

“Now get out of here, I don’t want to see you again until we’re getting married.”

 

“I haven’t seen you at all,” Tobin points out. She does what Christen wants, though. She squeezes her hands and then turns to walk towards the door before she realizes she doesn’t really know where it is. “Uh, babe? Could you lead me to the door?” She asks sheepishly.

 

Christen laughs and places her hand on the small of Tobin’s back, leading her further to the left than Tobin had been going. She hears the door open and Nima’s exasperated voice from down the hall.

 

“ _Finally_ ,” he says, voice getting closer as he speaks. “Tyler was about ready to kill me if I didn’t let her back into the room to finish Christen’s hair. You ready to go, Tobin?”

 

“Yeah,” Tobin grins in what she assumes is Nima’s direction. “I’m ready to get married.”

 

“Me too, my love. Me too,” Christen kisses Tobin’s cheek and then she’s gone, the door latching into place behind her.

 

Nima takes the tie off her head as gently as he put it on, and smiles at her widely as she squints at the lights in the hallway that are so much brighter than she remembers now that she can actually see again.

 

“All right, let's get you back to your room, Tyler wasn’t the only one threatening bodily harm. Casey is a lot scarier than she seems,” Nima laughs.

 

They turn and walk back towards her room, Nima putting his tie back on while they go. Just before Tobin steps back into her room, she turns towards Nima, needing to ask him one more thing.

 

“Does Christen look as beautiful in her dress as I think she does?”

 

Nima’s eyes absolutely _glow_ as he smiles down at her. He brings a hand to her face and runs his thumb against her cheek as he says, “babe, she looks _so_ much better than you could ever imagine. Make sure you hold on to your dad and Jeff when they walk you down the aisle, you’re going to need the support when you see her.”

 

Tobin grins at the thought.

 

“Let’s do this,” Tobin says, more ready for her wedding than she’s ever been for anything else before. “Let’s get married.”


	5. "You changed my flight?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year to all of you lovely people! I appreciate you all :)

“Tobin--Tobs, I've really got to go,” Christen says breathlessly. “I should've gone an hour ago.”

 

“Just two more minutes,” Tobin mumbles against her lips. 

 

“You’ve said that like twelve times,” Christen points out with a laugh, which Tobin promptly swallows as she glides her tongue into Christen’s mouth. 

 

The whimper that falls from Christen’s lips lets them both know two minutes won't be nearly enough time. There's never enough time for Tobin. Or Christen either, but it's always harder for Tobin. She isn't good at goodbyes, she hates them honestly. Christen isn't fond of them either, but she's gotten good at channeling her emotions into her game and working out her pain that way. 

 

Tobin just mopes. 

 

She swears to Christen she doesn't, but every time they part ways, Allie always sends her a picture as proof, usually of Tobin curled up on Allie’s couch, wrapped in Christen’s favorite blanket or sweatshirt or asleep with her head in Allie’s lap because she doesn't want to be alone.

 

It breaks Christen’s heart and makes her yearn that much more for the day when there are no longer goodbyes, when their home isn't just within each other, but in the place they've settled down and built their lives together. 

 

She can't wait for that day. 

 

But for now--for now this is just the way things have to be. 

 

That doesn't make it any easier, though. 

 

A plane flies over top of them, ripping apart the air and vibrating the parking garage all around them. She'll never know for sure, but Christen has a suspicion that was the plane back to Chicago she's meant to be on right now. 

 

“Seriously, honey. I've got to go,” Christen tries again, pulling her mouth away.

 

Tobin just brings her lips to Christen’s neck and mumbles something about how she never wants her to leave. Christen wants that too, wants that more than anything, but she knows it's simply not plausible. 

 

Christen glances over at the clock on Tobin’s dashboard and jerks away with a groan. “Is that really the time? We’ve been making out that long?” She exclaims. “Dang it, I really did miss my flight.”

 

“No you didn't,” Tobin tells her. 

 

“What are you talking about? My flight was at 1:20, it's 1:31.” She pulls her phone out of her carry on so she can look up when the next flight is, praying it isn't a super late one.

 

“Your flight isn't until 3:15. I changed it last night after you fell asleep. We've got plenty of time to make out now.”

 

Tobin tries to lean back in, but Christen pulls back further, dropping her phone in her lap. “You changed my flight without telling me?”

 

Tobin turns red and her eyes shoot down to her hands resting on the center console. “Maybe...I just wanted more time with you,” she says shyly. “I'm sorry.”

 

“You mean you just wanted more time to make out with me.”

 

“Same thing.”

 

“Tobs, you can’t just go changing my flight without talking to me.” She says it with a sigh that makes her seem frustrated, but there’s a soft smile playing at her lips that says she thinks it’s cuter than it is annoying.

 

“Sorry.” Her eyes are still on her hands, but she lifts them when Christen presses her fingers against Tobin’s jaw.

 

“If you wanted to spend more time making out, we could’ve just stayed back at your apartment, you know?”

 

“Yeah, but I like making out with you in cars.”

 

“You’re such a teenager.”

 

“You love me.” Tobin leans in and kisses her soundly.

 

“I really do. Only ten more minutes, though. Seriously, Tobin. Then I’ve got to go.”

 

“Sure, sure,” Tobin mumbles against her neck.

 

It’s fifteen more minutes before Christen actually leaves.


	6. "Call me now. It's urgent."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> four fic posts in three days? what? i'm posting yet again because this week at work is going to be pretty hectic and i probably won't be able to post again until the weekend (and because this is one of my faves and i've been wanting to share it. domestic preath just really gets me)
> 
> shout out if you know which tv show i stole the baby name from (my fave fictional hetero couple)

Christen walks out of her second spa session of the day, a full body massage that released tension in her muscles she didn’t even know she had, and slips into the locker room to check her phone quickly before she meets her mom and sisters for lunch. She’s hoping Tobin has sent her a picture or two of the baby. It’s Tobin’s first time home alone with her and Christen knows she was nervous about it whether she would admit it or not.

 

Christen’s mom scheduled the four Press girls an all day spa get away as a Christmas present, mostly for Christen’s sake. It had been seven weeks since she had Lydia and as much as she loves spending every second she can with her daughter, she’s absolutely exhausted and so spending all day at a spa is exactly the thing she needs.

 

When she takes her phone out of her bag, her stomach immediately drops.

 

She has six missed calls, four voicemails and sixteen texts all from Tobin. Something has to be wrong and her mind immediately jumps to the worst conclusions. If Tobin’s blowing up her phone like this, something has to be very, very wrong.

 

Christen only sees one of the texts and it’s enough to stop her heart from beating.

 

[Tobin <3: 11:23 AM]  
_**Call me now. It’s urgent.**_

 

She doesn’t read a single message more or listen to any of the voicemails, she just calls Tobin immediately, her heart finally starting to beat again and speeding up the longer it takes Tobin to answer. As soon as she does, Christen launches into full on freak out mode.

 

“Is Lydia okay? Are you okay? Tobin, what the hell is going on?”

 

“She won’t cry!” Tobin shouts.

 

That catches Christen by surprise. That was just about the last thing she was expecting. “Wait, what? What are you talking about? What do you mean she won’t cry?”

 

“Lydia, _our daughter_! She hasn’t cried once since you left!” Tobin exclaims. “Chris, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, but she won’t cry.”

 

Christen tries not to laugh, knowing how distressed Tobin is and not wanting her to think Christen isn’t taking this seriously. “Sweetie, it’s okay that she’s not crying. That’s a blessing she’s not crying. Take advantage of the silence while you can.”

 

“I know, but babe, she always cries. All the time. It’s weird that she’s not, right? You’ve been gone almost four hours and aside from a couple burps, she hasn’t made a single noise. I don’t know what to do.”

 

“Tobin,” she sighs sweetly, wanting to ease her wife’s mind. “You don’t need to do anything other than what you’ve been doing. You’re doing everything right.”

 

Tobin’s been nervous with Lydia since she’s been born. Not in a bad way, just in a way that lets Christen know she’s worried about doing something to mess up their daughter. Christen knows she never would. Tobin loves Lydia more than she’s ever loved anything and her wariness is just further proof of that. It’s endearing how cautious she is about anything happening to their daughter, especially when it’s something as miraculous as her not crying for a few hours.

 

“But what if I’m screwing this up?” Tobin laments, voice cracking as she holds back tears. “I don’t want to mess up our kid, Christen. She’s just this little innocent baby and what if I’m doing something wrong and that’s why she’s not crying?”

 

“Tobin, my love, I promise you haven’t done anything wrong. She’s not crying because she loves you. You make her happy. She feels safe with you and so she doesn’t have a need to cry over anything. That’s a _good_ thing. If you _were_ doing something wrong, then she’d be crying her head off and not being so calm.”

 

“Yeah but she loves you too and she still cries when you’re with her.”

 

Christen sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, sinking down onto the locker room bench behind her. “Look, do you want me to come home? Would that make you feel better if I were there with you?”

 

It’s not something she particularly wants to do. As much as she loves her wife and baby, the short break has been incredibly relaxing and she wants to finish out the day, especially considering her mom already paid for everything.

 

“No, I don’t want you to ditch your spa day,” Tobin says sullenly. “I know how much you were looking forward to that.”

 

“Do you want me to call my dad and see if he can come over and stay with you?” Christen tries, hoping that will help subdue Tobin’s freak out since she can’t do it herself. “He’s raised three daughters, he could help.”

 

“No, he doesn’t need to come over,” Tobin says with far more confidence this time. She clears her throat and Christen can almost hear her sitting up straighter. “I’m thirty-years-old and she’s my daughter. I can deal with this, right? I mean yeah--yeah, I can definitely deal with this. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

 

“You will be, babe. I know you will.”

 

Tobin lets out a long, low breath through her teeth. “Okay--okay, I’m sorry for freaking out.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize for that. If something’s going on, I want to know about it, even if it’s silly.”

 

Tobin laughs and it sets Christen’s heart at ease to know she’s finally calmed down. “It is pretty silly, you’re right,” she scoffs. “All right, go have fun for the rest of your day. Relax, enjoy time with your mom and sisters, then you can come home later and teach me how wonderful your massage was.”

 

Christen hums thinking about that last part. “You have no idea what you’re in for. It was so good.”

 

“Okay, okay, don’t go making me jealous now.”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

xxx

When Christen comes home it’s after dinnertime and aside from a quick text from Tobin a couple hours earlier letting her know that while Lydia still hasn’t cried, everything is okay with them, she hasn’t heard from her since her freak out earlier in the day. She’s a little worried at what she’ll find when she steps in their home, but instead her heart nearly overflows with love at the sight she sees in front of her.

 

Tobin and Lydia are sprawled on their backs across a blanket Tobin’s grandma crocheted on the living room floor, limbs stretched out identically while they sleep soundly. Tobin’s got her hand reaching across the distance between them, perched protectively over their daughter’s stomach.

 

She snaps a quick picture of the scene in front of her and then sets her bag on the kitchen counter so she can join in on family naptime. She lays down on Tobin’s opposite side from Lydia and wraps an arm around her stomach. Tobin stirs, but she doesn’t open her eyes.

 

“Hi, baby,” she mumbles, tilting her head to kiss Christen’s temple before resting her cheek against the top of Christen’s head and letting her breath settle again. “How was your day?”

 

“Absolutely wonderful. I really needed it,” Christen says. “I missed my babies, though.”

 

“We missed you too. Especially Lydia. She kept trying to bite my boobs thinking I was you.”

 

“Someone’s going to have to tell her that job is reserved just for me.” Christen nips at the edge of Tobin’s bra that’s just barely visible under the low collar of her shirt.

 

“ _Babe_ ,” Tobin whines, mildly embarrassed even though it's just the two of them and a passed out baby. She gains a little more confidence when Christen kisses her neck. “If I have to share yours with Lydia, then you can share mine.”

 

“You know I'm not good at sharing.” Christen tugs on Tobin’s bra with her teeth once more before she nestles into Tobin’s side once again. “Did she ever cry?”

 

“No,” Tobin sighs. “It's still freaking me out. I'm not used to her being so quiet.”

 

“Hopefully it'll last.” Christen lifts her head from Tobin’s chest so she can look over at their sleeping daughter. “She's so beautiful. I still can't believe she's real sometimes.”

 

“You did so well with her.”

 

“ _We_ did well with her. You’re the one that managed to keep her from crying all day.”

 

As if on cue, Lydia starts to whimper and squirm around under Tobin’s hand. Her big brown eyes open and when she sees Christen, she starts to really cry then.

 

“You have to leave,” Tobin tells her with wide eyes, completely serious.

 

“What? No.”

 

“Babe, she wasn’t crying when you weren’t here. That must mean she loves me more than you. You’ve got to go or else she’ll never stop,” she’s teasing now, pretending like what she’s saying is the most rational sentence ever spoken.

 

“Oh hush, I’m not going anywhere.” Christen crawls over Tobin and leans down to kiss both of Lydia’s cheeks before she picks her up gently and cradles her against her chest, she instantly starts to calm down. “ _You_ , on the other hand, are going upstairs.”

 

“And why am I doing that?” Tobin asks as she sit up.

 

“Because you’ve been taking care of her all day while I got a break, now it’s your turn. Go draw a bath, light some of those lavender candles you like, catch up on your reading after and just relax. I’ll change and feed her and play for a little bit, then I’ll be up eventually to give you that massage I promised.”

 

Tobin perks up at that last part.

 

They’ve yet to have sex since Lydia was born because of exhaustion, Lydia not staying asleep long enough and Christen not being in the mood yet. It’s one thing to joke about the massage like they did earlier, but it’s another thing to actually plan it out.

 

“Is there going to be a happy ending to this massage?” Tobin asks with as big a grin she can manage, unable to hold it back.

 

“If you play your cards right, maybe.” Christen winks at her and that’s all the signal Tobin needs to run upstairs and do exactly what Christen told her to do, excited for the direction this night is starting to take.

 

Christen rolls her eyes and looks down at that their baby.

 

_Their baby._

 

“Your momma’s crazy,” Christen tells her with a kiss to the forehead, planning on dragging this out as long as she can just to make Tobin squirm.


	7. “So did you miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kinda forgot about these, my bad

Christen’s nervous as she waits at the designated spot near baggage claim for the rest of her teammates meant to be picked up by the first team van. She knows Crystal, Ali and Ashlyn will be there, Morgan and Julie too, she thinks. Those aren’t the people she’s worried about.

 

Tobin is.

 

Christen hasn’t seen her since they parted ways after their ceremony at the White House and while they’d spoken more frequently in that time than they probably ever have before, Christen still feels like she has no idea what’s gone on in the girl’s life since.

 

She’s missed her, far more than she ever expected to, far more than she’s ever missed a teammate before. Whitney and Julie are two of her best friends on the team and she’s never missed them like this.

 

She’s at a loss for what that means.

 

She has a pretty good idea, but that would be crazy right?

 

She can’t feel that way about Tobin. She’s _Tobin_ ; sweet, funny, sometimes oblivious Tobin. Christen can’t have feelings for her and yet, they’re getting harder and harder to deny.

 

She doesn’t have much more of a chance to sift through her thoughts before she hears her name being called in that familiar lazy, slow voice.

 

Christen looks over her shoulder to see Tobin striding towards her, snapback thrown haphazardly over tangled hair, sweats riding low on her hips, eyes sleepy from her nap on the plane. She has an easy smile on her face that only increases as she gets closer to Christen.

 

Christen’s about to open her mouth in greeting when Tobin’s throwing two lanky arms around her waist and pulling her into a tight hug. She’s still warm with sleep and underneath the stale smell of the plane, there’s an earthy undertone that Christen recognizes from the sweaters she’s borrowed from Tobin on occasion.

 

She pretends the smell doesn’t make her dizzy.

 

She never knew something as simple as a hug could make her feel so content, but she feels her heart sink a little when Tobin pulls away. She puts on a brave face and smiles down at Tobin, trying to keep her emotions in check.

 

“Hey, Chris.”

 

“Hi, how was your flight?”

 

“Okay, I guess. I slept through all of it,” she grins, bringing up a hand to rub the sleep out of her eyes. It’s the cutest damn thing Christen’s ever seen and she has to look away to prevent herself from reaching out to brush away the hair that falls from behind Tobin’s ear.

 

“Typical. You're always asleep,” she says instead of what she wants to say. _‘You’re so beautiful.’_

 

“I wasn't asleep when I was on the phone with you for three hours the other night,” Tobin points out. 

 

Christen’s cheeks turn a flaming shade of pink. She hadn't meant to keep Tobin on the phone that long, but she just couldn't stop talking and Tobin didn't stop her. It hadn't even felt like three hours until Tobin yawned and told her she was exhausted from chasing around her nephew all day. They'd hung up and Christen tried and failed to go to bed, plagued with thoughts of Tobin. 

 

Yeah, she definitely has feelings for her. 

 

“So did you miss me?” Tobin asks with a cocky grin, already knowing exactly what the answer is. “Because I totally missed you. Like a lot,” Tobin states without a hint of sarcasm in her voice. 

 

Christen’s breath hitches at that. 

 

Yeah, she _definitely_ has feelings for her.


	8. "Rise and shine, sweet thang."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for being really bad about remembering to post these

“Rise and shine, sweet thang,” is the first thing Christen hears at 4:25 AM on a Sunday morning.

 

She groans and rolls over, tucking her head under Tobin’s chin and burying herself deeper in the blankets. She does _not_ want to be awake right now. Why did she let Tobin talk her into this?

 

“Sweet thing?” She grumbles. It’s far too early in the morning for Tobin’s bad flirting. All she wants to do is go back to sleep.

 

“No, it’s ‘sweet thang’ with an ‘a.’ It sounds so much dirtier with the ‘a,’” Tobin explains, running a hand through Christen’s hair and kissing her forehead, trying to coax her out of sleep.

 

“Either way you sound like a skeezy frat guy,” Christen complains, refusing to lift her head from Tobin’s pillow.

 

“Well someone’s grumpy this morning.”

 

“It’s 4 in the morning, how could I not be grumpy?”

 

“It’s game day! Arsenal are about to kick some Rottenham ass, get excited.”

 

The volume of her voice makes Christen cringe, but it also does just enough to wake her up. She rolls over on her back and rubs at her sleepy eyes. “I’d get excited if they could play at a decent hour and if I were actually an Arsenal fan. I don’t like them the way you do.”

 

“Love, Christen,” she corrects. “I _love_ them with my whole heart. And I know you don’t love them too, it’s a major point of contention in our relationship that I’m honestly still trying to forgive you for, but you love me and so you’re up to watch the game with me, so it’s a start.”

 

“Fine,” Christen complains one more time, moving so she’s sitting further up on the pillows and is able to see the TV screen. “Let’s watch this damn game so I can go back to bed afterwards.”

 

“That’s the spirit!” Tobin exclaims, rolling over to grab the remote off the nightstand. “I’ve been waiting for this all week.”

xxx

Tobin falls asleep barely fifteen minutes into the game. Christen nudges her awake, but then five minutes later she’s fast asleep again and Christen knows it’s pointless to even try and keep her awake. She starts recording the game so Tobin can watch it later and considers going back to sleep as well, but it’s evading her so she just stays up and finishes the game.

 

She may not be a fan of either team, but it’s a good game so she’s easily able to get into it. She makes mental notes of all the good things Alexis and Özil do because she knows they’re Tobin’s favorite players and she wants to be able to tell her about it afterwards.

 

Shortly after the second half starts, the energy of the games starts ramping up and she really gets excited over it. She can see exactly why Tobin loves this team so much. They’re fun to watch and the passion is so evident that she thinks this game may be converting her into an Arsenal fan.

 

It ends in a 1-1 draw, but it’s still a good match and she knows Tobin will be excited to watch it later, even if she will be upset she couldn’t stay awake.

 

Christen spends the next few hours reading with another Premier League game muted on the TV while Tobin dozes with her head on Christen’s stomach and her arm across her thighs. She strokes Tobin’s hair mindlessly until, eventually, she wakes up, well after the sun has risen and the third game of the morning is almost about to start.

 

“Rise and shine, sweet thang,” Christen coos, closing her book and nestling down the bed so she can kiss the tip of Tobin’s nose. “How’d you sleep?”

 

“Oh gosh, I slept through the game? Dammit,” Tobin whines, running a hand over her face in frustration.

 

“Don’t worry, I recorded it for you,” Christen tells her with a kiss. “You owe me so big for waking me up at the crack of dawn to watch _your_ favorite team only to fall asleep on me. That’s so not cool.”

 

“You’re the best girlfriend ever,” Tobin says sweetly, trying to win Christen over with her sleepy smile.

 

“Yeah, yeah. What would you say if I told you I might be starting to become an Arsenal fan?”

 

Tobin’s suddenly wide awake at that. She props herself up so she’s leaning over Christen and has the biggest smile on her face. “Wait, really? Are you finally becoming a Gooner?”

 

“I have no idea what that means, but sure.”

 

“See, I knew I was right. Best girlfriend ever.” Tobin leans down to kiss her soundly, maneuvering so she’s laying comfortably on top of Christen. “I love you, sweet thang.”

 

“If you never call me that again, I definitely would not be upset,” Christen says as she rolls her eyes. 

 

“I don’t know, it’s kinda growing on me. I think I’m going to start calling you that exclusively from now on,” Tobin teases, pressing a smile against Christen’s lips.


	9. "What are we now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is actually the first one i wrote and i'm not really sure how i feel about it, but i'm tired of looking at in in my list so i figured i'd finally post it

Tobin’s bottom lip is trembling.

 

That’s the first thing Christen notices when she pulls away from the kiss and opens her eyes. Tobin’s bottom lip is trembling and her eyes are still screwed shut, almost like she’s trying to block out a painful memory.

 

“Jeez, is kissing me really that bad?”

 

Tobin’s eyes fly open at that and she’s immediately apologetic. “Wh-what? No! No, n-not at all. That--that’s not at all what’s going on.”

 

“Then what is going on?” She asks, trying to sound as amused as she can manage. She put herself out on a limb by kissing Tobin and she’s worried now that might have been a mistake. She feels like she’s walking on a highwire without a pole for balance and the longer Tobin acts flustered, the more the net drops out from underneath her.

 

“Nothing!” Tobin rushes out, cringing at how defensive that sounded. “Nothing’s wrong,” she repeats more smoothly. “Just can we--can we just--I'm going to take a shower, then we can watch a movie, okay?”

 

Christen’s heart still hasn’t resumed a normal rhythm. It’s been beating wildly since she first decided she was going to finally kiss Tobin, just moments before she leaned in to actually make her move. It’s only worse now. She’d been so sure Tobin wanted this, but judging by the way she’s behaving, Christen must have misread the situation.

 

It isn’t that she thinks Tobin didn’t _want_ her to kiss her, it’s just that maybe Tobin wasn’t _ready_ for her to. She only just got out of a long term relationship a couple months ago and this thing with Christen--whatever it is--is still new for both of them.

 

Maybe Christen shouldn’t have kissed her just yet but she’s impatient and she promised herself a long time ago that she’d always go after what she wanted unapologetically.

 

Tobin just happens to be what she wants this time.

 

“Yeah, of course. Go shower.”

 

Tobin smiles politely as she rises from the couch and heads to the guest room where she's been staying. Christen had offered to let her just stay in her room, knowing Tobin likes the company, but Tobin declined and Christen didn't pretend to know exactly why. 

 

Because it might lead to something stupid.

 

Like kissing before they were ready. 

 

Christen decides to busy herself with letting the dogs out, throwing the ball a few extra times for Khaleesi so she can prolong her distraction. Eventually, though, the dogs get lazy and head to the door before Christen’s ready. 

 

Once back inside, she sets herself to washing their dishes from dinner instead of just putting them in the dishwasher because she needs something to occupy her mind. It works. The mindless scrubbing means her thoughts are relatively quiet. She has plenty she could be thinking about, stressing about more like, but she knows it’s useless to worry about anything until Tobin tells her what’s going on, explains why she reacted the way she did. She doesn’t want to stress about something unnecessarily, so instead she keeps her mind as empty as possible, doing her best to push away thoughts of how she can still taste Tobin’s strawberry chapstick on her lips.

 

Fifteen minutes later and Christen’s running out of bowls to scrub even though her hands are moving at a snail’s pace and Tobin still hasn’t left her room. Tobin takes notoriously quick showers, never lasting more than ten minutes, usually less than five, so Christen knows she isn’t still in the shower. But if she’s not, then that means she might have gone to bed. Christen really hopes she wouldn’t do that, go to bed and leave things the way they are between them.

 

Ten more minutes go by and Christen’s run out of dishes so she turns the faucet off and dries her hands on a towel. She’s turning the lights off around the house, accepting that they aren’t going to talk tonight, when the door to Tobin’s room squeaks open and Tobin pads out to the living room.

 

Tobin leans against the wall with her arms crossed and head hung low. She’s working herself towards something, so Christen distracts herself by folding and refolding the blanket thrown across the back of the couch and gives Tobin time. She’s given her more time than she thought she was capable of, but still she waits.

 

“What are we now?” Tobin asks finally.

 

Christen drops the blanket in her hands back on the couch, more crumpled now than it was before she picked it up. She looks at Tobin curiously and is about to ask her what she means when Tobin continues.

 

“It’s just…that didn’t really feel like a friendly kiss, you know? I mean, I’ve kind of picked up vibes that you might have feelings for me, but we’ve never really talked about it. I remember you saying this summer you didn’t want a relationship and I know you weren’t talking specifically about me, but it still didn’t seem like something you were interested in. I liked kissing you and I’d like to do it again, but I guess I’m just wondering what you want out of this. Is it just a hookup? Are you looking for a friends with benefits type thing? Do you _like_ me? I guess I’m just trying to figure out where I stand here.” She ends her rant with an embarrassed smile and rubs at her eyes like she’s trying to erase the confusion.

 

Christen’s never seen Tobin so flustered. She typically exudes confidence. Standing in front of her now, though, her bottom lip is still shaking and she keeps shifting her weight between feet, fidgeting with her hands in front of her stomach. She can’t stay still and she can’t figure out what she wants to do, so she just stands awkwardly, trying to get a read on the situation.

 

As cute as Tobin is in the moment, Christen wants to put her out of her misery. She crosses the distance between them and kisses Tobin unexpectedly for the second time tonight. It’s slower and longer than the first one, giving Tobin time to join in unlike before where she’d been too shocked to participate. It’s deep while still managing to be chaste, no tongue or teeth and lots of lips.

 

Christen’s grinning when she pulls away, waiting until Tobin opens her eyes to speak.

 

“I like you, Tobin. I don’t think I can give you a definite answer on what we are now because I think that’s something we should talk about together, but we’re definitely Something, with a capital S.”

 

“Capital S’s are important,” Tobin chokes out, leaning forward to rest her forehead against Christen’s.

 

“Very important.”

 

There’s a third kiss that barely lasts three seconds before Christen pulls away and wraps Tobin up in a tight embrace, not even bothered by Tobin’s wet hair soaking through her shirt. Her hair smells like lavender and her skin smells like the ocean, but Christen tries to ignore all that and not let herself get carried away.

 

“We’ll figure it out,” she tells Tobin.

 

Tobin sighs and presses a kiss to the side of Christen’s head.

 

“We’ll figure it out.”


	10. "Please don't be mad at me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a fluffy little thing [pun intended (you'll understand after you read this)] to celebrate women's day!
> 
> shout out to all the strong, intelligent, beautiful women out there! i love you all and you all deserve every amazing thing you want! i hope you guys get to kiss all the pretty girls (or dudes, if that's your thing, or both. you know what? just kiss whoever you want! anyone and everyone! kissing is fun and we should all do it all the time! just make out with everyone!) what was my original point? oh yeah! women's day! i hope your day was great and may tomorrow be even better
> 
> okay back to studying for midterms

“Christen, what did you do?”

 

“It’s really not that bad, I promise.”

 

Tobin’s not buying it. Not at all.

 

“I’ve been home five seconds and you’ve already taken my training bag for me, helped me out of my jacket, told me you made my favorite dark chocolate chip cookies without the vegan chocolate you always insist on and got us takeout from the Thai restaurant down the street that I know you hate. You did something you’re trying to make up for. What is it?”

 

“I can’t just do something nice for my wonderful, beautiful, amazing girlfriend who I love more than anything in the world?” She knows she’s overselling it, but she’s nervous and can’t help it.

 

Tobin crosses her arms.

 

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Christen pleads, clasping her hands together below her chin and giving Tobin her best pout, lower lip pushed out and eyes wide and earnest.

 

Tobin narrows her eyebrows.

 

“I promise it’s not bad.”

 

“Christen, what did you do?” She repeats slowly.

 

As if on cue, a small bark comes from the living room, followed by a long whimper that could only be coming from a dog.

 

Tobin’s brown eyes go wide as she figures it out. “Please tell me you did not get a dog without talking to me about this first. There’s no way you would’ve done that, right? You never would have made such a big decision like this without consulting me, would you?”

 

She’s angry.

 

She’s not raising her voice and she’s trying really hard to keep her emotions in check, but she’s angry. There’s a part of her that isn’t at all surprised by this--this is such a Christen thing to do and honestly, she’s surprised it hasn’t already happened--but she’s a little disappointed Christen would actually follow through without letting Tobin be a part of the process. It’s a huge decision for them, especially since they spend so much time apart and are away from home so often. They’ve talked about getting a dog one day down the road, but certainly not now.

 

Christen’s quick to try and defend herself. 

 

“I swear it’s not a big deal. I will literally take care of absolutely everything for him--it’s a him by the way and he’s so freaking cute--but vet bills, toys, food, dog sitter fees when we’re out of town, it’s all on me, I promise. You won’t have to do anything. He can come stay with me in Chicago when the season starts back up. I’m not going to make him a burden for you. And I just--”

 

“It's a _dog_ , Chris. It is a big deal. Dogs are a lot of work.”

 

“Technically he's a puppy,” Christen says sheepishly. 

 

“Puppies are even more work!” 

 

Christen’s eyes are downcast as she looks away from Tobin. Her hand shakes a little as she runs it through her hair. Both gestures are nervous ticks she has. It's clear she's a little distraught over this. Christen doesn't make split moment decisions like this. Everything she does is rational and well thought out. Tobin can see the growing hesitation in her eyes the more she thinks about this and realizes she made a mistake. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Christen finally says. “You’re right, I shouldn't have done this. I know that. I shouldn't have made such a big decision without you.”

 

“Are you saying that because you mean it or just because you know it's what I want you to say?”

 

“I mean it. It was a stupid thing to do, I'm sorry. I'll take him back to the shelter tomorrow.” She looks nearly on the verge of tears now and despite how angry Tobin is, her heart breaks at the sight. 

 

Tobin steps forward and wraps her arms around her girlfriend tightly, resting her chin on her shoulder. “No you won't, you're not taking him back,” she whispers after a moment.

 

Christen jerks back enough so she can look Tobin in the eyes. Her own are wide with disbelief. “Are you serious? You're not going to make me take him back?”

 

There's another series of whines coming from the living room and Christen’s eyes dart in that direction anxiously. She so clearly wants to go comfort the puppy, but she knows she needs to deal with this first. 

 

“Of course I'm not. You already got him all excited by bringing him home and letting him think he's adopted. I can't make you take him back now, it'd break his heart.” She reaches up and wipes away the one stray tear that managed to make its way out of Christen’s eye. “And yours too, I think.”

 

“Are you still mad at me?”

 

“Oh definitely,” Tobin responds without hesitation. “I probably will be for a little while, but I still love you too, so I'll get over it.”

 

“I am really sorry, it was such a stupid thing to do. I took the long way walking home from the store today and saw they were having an adoption fair in the park and I just couldn't stay away. This little guy was so sad and then he saw me and jumped right up. The woman said he hadn’t paid anyone attention all day, but he wouldn’t leave me alone. I couldn’t help it. You're lucky I only brought home one.”

 

“I'm proud of your restraint,” Tobin laughs, knowing she's right. She easily could've walked in here to see two or three dogs romping around, but Christen had managed to keep herself in check, somewhat, and only adopt one. “All I'm saying is this dog better be the cutest thing ever or else I'm going to be so much more mad.”

 

“Cutest ever, I promise.” Her eyes are no longer glassy and she has a huge grin stretched tightly across her cheeks at the thought of Tobin actually coming around to the idea. 

 

“All right then, let's go see this puppy.”

 

Christen excitedly takes Tobin’s hand in hers and pulls her in the direction of the living room. “His name is Ghost and he's so excited to meet you, I've already told him all about you.”

 

They step across the threshold into the living room to see a small mass of shaggy white fur scratching at one wall of the child-sized playpen Christen’s put him in. He can't be any more than 10 pounds and Tobin thinks 5 of that is probably fur. He look like a giant marshmallow, actually. A marshmallow with bright blue eyes and paws far too big for its body. 

 

Yeah, Tobin has to admit it, he's pretty damn cute.


	11. "Call me when you get home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to just be sappy but ended up being a little bit angsty. my bad
> 
> the next chapter of under pink skies will _hopefully_ be posted this weekend. i've been super busy and haven't had the time to finish it. maybe i'll post another of these in a few days to make up for it

The days when Christen leaves Portland for Chicago, Tobin always mopes, not that she’d ever admit to it, though.

 

She drags her feet as she helps Christen pack up the last of her things. Christen almost always makes them breakfast, usually omelettes or acai bowls, and Tobin will dutifully eat the entire thing, but she won’t taste it.

 

She’ll carry on with whatever conversation Christen wants, but she won’t initiate anything.

 

In the car to the airport, she barely sings along to the songs Christen plays, even when they’re her favorites. She drives a few miles under the speed limit to make the time last just a little bit longer.

 

She never cries when she helps Christen get her bag out of the trunk and hugs her goodbye, Tobin isn’t a crier, but it’s the closest she ever comes without tears actually falling. She clings onto Christen as long as she can before one of the security guards comes around and tells her she needs to leave.

 

They don’t kiss goodbye at the airport, they save that for at home where there aren’t any prying eyes. Tobin’s grateful for it because she thinks if they _did_ kiss in that moment, it would be her breaking point. That simple gesture would be what would coax the tears into falling and then Tobin would be a mess and Christen would feel awful for leaving her like that.

 

They always part with the same words.

 

“I love you, see you later. Call me when you get home.”

 

It’s that last word that always makes Tobin feel the worst. She hates the idea of Christen calling another place home. _She’s_ Christen’s home, not some city that will always feel unfamiliar to Tobin no matter how many times she visits.

 

Tobin always sticks around as long as she can, watching Christen through the glass windows of the airport until the security guard comes around yet again telling her to leave or he’s going to give her a ticket.

 

When she gets back from dropping Christen off at the airport, she always glances quickly at the calendar hanging on her fridge and takes note of the little number Christen drew in the corner of today’s date and every date following until they’re together again. The countdown is more for Christen’s sake than Tobin’s. It’s her own way of dealing with their time apart. Tobin would rather not have the constant reminder that for the next six months there are more days marked on the calendar than there are ones not, more days spent apart than together.

 

After that she naps for as long as she can, but not in her bed. The sheets still smell like Christen and she can’t bring herself to wash away her almond shampoo and coconut oil infused lotion just yet. It will lull her to sleep later when it’s time for bed, help dull the ache in her chest so that it’s manageable enough to forget about and fall asleep. So soon after she leaves, though, it’s just a reminder that even though Tobin can still smell her, she isn’t there anymore and won’t be for weeks, so Tobin avoids it.

 

Sometimes she’ll stretch out along her couch, Christen’s Stanford blanket (the one Tobin always jokes about burning) thrown across her thighs despite the sun streaming through the floor length mirrors and warming her skin all on its own. The soft fleece reminds her of mornings wrapped up in that blanket with Christen as they watch Premier League games or game tape from the national team that Jill sends them, Christen scribbling notes in her little notebook about her play the whole time.

 

Sometimes her apartment feels too full of memories of Christen and too empty of Christen herself that Tobin can’t take it, so she’ll trudge down two floors to Allie’s apartment, letting herself in with the spare key if she’s not there.

 

Allie’s good in those moments. She never asks Tobin why she’s there, she already knows. She just asks her if she wants some of whatever she’s making for lunch and what show she wants to binge on Netflix that day.

 

Eventually she can’t nap anymore no matter how much she wants to, so she’ll go for a run or a bike ride or drive around the city to all the local fields until she can find a pickup game she can join in on. Christen usually calls her around the time Tobin is lacing up her boots, so their conversations are typically short, just a brief update on how the flight went and the promise to FaceTime later.

 

The following days get a little easier, one at a time.

 

She starts getting up earlier every day, running a few more blocks, taking a few more shots on goal each time.

 

She makes sure to actually get out of her apartment and do at least one thing a day so that when Christen asks her what she did that day over FaceTime, she can tell her something other than training or rewatching Arsenal games.

 

What she doesn’t tell Christen is how slowly time passes without her.

 

She doesn’t tell her the reason she extends her runs are because suddenly an hour doesn’t actually feel like an hour, it only feels like 30 minutes and she’s not ready for the quiet of her empty apartment, so she keeps running.

 

She doesn’t tell her how she starts showing up at least 40 minutes early to every training session, before all her other teammates, so that she can kill as much time as she can without sitting around thinking about when she’ll see Christen’s smile in person again.

 

She doesn’t tell her that she replays every meaningful play in the games she watches to make them last longer than the allotted 90 minutes.

 

It’s like when she’s without Christen, time and space bend in such a way that the days are longer and the nights are longer and her time without Christen seems to stretch on forever.

 

She hates it.

 

But then the days Christen marked on the calendar in bright red Sharpie turn from double digits to single digits. Then Tobin only needs one hand to count the days instead of two. Then Tobin is driving that same road to the airport that she did weeks ago, except this time she drives faster, a few miles over the speed limit instead of under, just so that she can get to her sooner. 

 

Time passes at a normal pace again, but not even that is fast enough to get her to Christen, so she pushes the limit as much as she dares until Christen’s sitting next to her in the passenger seat and her hand is warm against Tobin’s thigh.

 

The time apart is awful. It makes Tobin think too much, it makes her worry. But it’s all worth it when Christen comes back. That doesn’t mean she isn’t waiting for the day when Christen stops leaving, though. She just wishes there were numbers marked on her calendar for that date, the day when Christen comes home to her and she doesn’t leave again.

 

Tobin waits as patiently as she can for that day.


	12. "Why do I even bother?"

“Tobin!”

 

She cringes as she hears Christen shout her name from their bedroom. She can sense the annoyance all the way from her place stationed in front of the fridge, door wide open as she tries to decide what it is she wants to make for her post morning surf session breakfast.

 

The volume of Christen’s voice makes her freeze, as does the reason she’s shouting. Tobin knows right away what it’s for, there could only be one reason.

 

Her wetsuit.

 

Tobin always had the habit of just leaving it on her bathroom floor, not bothering to hang it up, at least not right away. It was no problem when it was just her apartment and she was the only one it affected. 

 

Now Christen has moved in with her, though, and Christen likes things to be neat and tidy. It’s something Tobin has had to get used to and she’s managed to do so easily enough.

 

She puts her surfboard in one of the guest rooms as soon as she gets back instead of leaving it propped up against one of the walls in the living room. She puts her dirty dishes in the dishwasher right after she’s finished with them instead of leaving them in the sink until she runs out of silverware. She does her laundry at least once a week instead of letting it pile up and she also now has a laundry basket instead of just throwing it in the corner of her closet.

 

Christen moved in and she helped Tobin mature, smoothed out some of the rough edges that she developed from being single as long as she was before they got together. She helped turn Tobin’s bachelorette pad into a home.

 

The one habit Christen can’t get Tobin to break, though, is leaving her wetsuit on the floor.

 

Tobin stays silent, closes the refrigerator door as quietly as she can and stands still, wondering if she’d be able to sneak out of the apartment without Christen knowing.

 

But Christen knows her way too well for that to ever be possible.

 

“Don’t act like you can’t hear me, Tobin.” Christen’s voice gets quieter as she walks into the kitchen to confront Tobin, softening from a shout to a normal tone. When she steps around the corner, she’s got the the wetsuit hanging from one finger, still dripping seawater, a trail dotting the ground behind Christen. “Do I even need to say it?” Christen asks, grinning knowingly.

 

Tobin’s relieved to see that Christen isn’t mad. Annoyed, sure, but she isn’t angry.

 

She smiles sheepishly and steps forward to take her wetsuit from Christen. “I was just about to go hang this up,” she says, even though they both know it’s a lie.

 

“Uh-huh,” Christen hums.

 

“And I’m about to clean up the water on the floor,” Tobin adds.

 

“And?”

 

Tobin wracks her brain, wondering what else she could have possibly missed, when she sees Christen glance towards the fridge and it dawns on her. She lets out a laugh as she realizes her girlfriend is totally going to milk this for all it’s worth, but she doesn’t mind.

 

“And I’m going to make you banana pancakes and bring them to you in bed while we binge watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine?” She asks hopefully, wondering if this will be enough to placate Christen.

 

It seems to do the trick.

 

Christen leans in and kisses her nose. “I’ll be reading in bed until breakfast is ready.” With a final kiss to Tobin’s lips and a wink, she walks back towards their room, pointing towards the trail of water by her feet. “Make sure you don’t miss this spot,” she teases.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tobin mumbles, reaching for the roll of paper towels.

 

She manages to remember to hang up her wetsuit for the next three days.

 

But then she forgets again.

 

“Why do I even bother?” Christen wonders aloud, but she laughs and picks it up herself, hanging it over the shower rod to dry.

 

She’ll just have to pick her battles, she supposes.


End file.
